I awoke with a terrible start at 8:30. I don't know what awakened me. I seemed to hear the sound of a door closing, Kathy's door. But I could not be sure. I immediately jumped out of bed and put on my robe. My head seemed amazingly clear. I was not dizzy anymore. I was determined to have it out, to go right into Kathy's room and have it out. I was going to find out the truth, find out whether everything that I suspected was true, or whether I was out of my mind.
I stopped short when I opened the door to the stall. Bob was sitting at the top of the stairs, smoking a cigarette and wearing his blue silk pajamas. His blue silk pajamas! My mind seemed to snap, and I walked toward him wagging an accusing finger.
“Where have you been?” I demanded.
“Be quiet, dear. You'll wake Kathy,” he stated with amazing calm and aplomb, patting a place beside him for me to sit down. “I've spent a rather hectic night, but I think it's all for the best…”
“You… were in Kathy's bedroom?” I accused him outright, ”… in your underwear…”
“For God's sake keep your voice down!” he whispered sharply, grabbing my arm. “Kathy had been drinking. Chillie got her drunk and almost raped her. She was terribly upset. I could tell that when she came in. As soon as you passed out, I went in and talked to her.”
“But your clothes… I saw your clothes over the railing there when I got up to go to the bathroom at four.”
“So you did,” he agreed without hesitation. “I talked to her first until about two-thirty, and then I came in here to get my pajamas. I told Kathy I would sleep in the den so that if she needed me she could come get me without disturbing you. She was still quite upset. I changed clothes here in the hallway so I wouldn't have to leave my clothes downstairs.”
“No… no you didn't,” I said stiffly, determined to have it out, “Your… pajamas were still on the bed when I was up at four.”
“Oh? How were you feeling then? Was everything clear? No effects from your drinking?”
“Yes!” I blurted out, then I felt an awful headache coming on, “No-I was dizzy-”
“Blue pajamas-blue vertigo,” he commented, shrugging his shoulders and smiling at me, “It can happen to anyone. Probably fixated in your mind from the night before when they were there.”
“But you were-in Kathy's room-”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, “I stayed with Kathy most of the night, with the exception of about an hour when I was in the den, twenty minutes fixing something to eat in the kitchen. I even lay beside her in the bed and let her cuddle close to me, put her arm around me. The girl needed it. She needed her father. Her mother was drunk!”
The last word seared through me like a hot branding iron. I turned away from him and wanted to cry. How could I believe it? How could I believe it, knowing what had gone on before, knowing that he had the means to watch her alone in her bedroom at any time through that spy device?
“Denise?”
“Yes, Bob.”
“The door was unlocked. Why didn't you come in and see for yourself when you were up at four?”
“I–I don't know. I wasn't feeling good.”
“You could have peeked in through the scope in the closet, Denise. If you were so worried, why didn't you do that?”
“Oh-I don't know Bob. I'm so-so mixed up about everything-”
“Denise, look at me. Look at me right square in the eye, and tell me you honestly believe I was making love to your daughter.”
“I can't-,” I admitted tearfully, about to go to pieces inside, but afraid to.
“I'll tell you another reason I stayed in there nearly all night with Kathy,” Bob announced, looking at me very seriously. “I wanted to see how deeply this phobia goes. You claim to love me, Denise. But you don't trust me at all. How can you say you love me when you don't trust me?”
How could I not believe him?
UNTIL Kathy left to return to her father three weeks later, I was in a state of emotional turmoil. One day, I would believe it was all in my imagination. The next day, Kathy or Bob would do or say something that brought it all back.
I went to the doctor complaining of nerves and he tried to get me to talk about the thing that was bothering me. Naturally, I refused, because I refused to recognize it myself. He prescribed some tranquilizers, but they only made me so sleepy that I fought hard to stay awake in the daytime and was even more nervous and restless when it was time to go to bed.
I drank excessively too.
“I love you so much, darling,” I told Kathy at the airport as she was about to go through the gate to her plane. “Please be a real good girl. You're such a fine looking girl. I want you to always remember how much I love you-”
I would almost choke on my words. I felt like bursting into tears one minute, and getting angry the next. My head was dizzy, and for some strange and inexplicable reason, I was terribly afraid to kiss my own daughter goodbye. Finally, I could contain myself no longer as I realized she was going and that I wouldn't see her again for nine months-if ever.
“You've got to tell me, Kathy!” I blurted out too loud, at least glad that Bob had been unable to come along with us. “This has been torturing me for three weeks. I–I've worried about the times you were alone with Bob so much. I–I love him, of course. But you are such a-an attractive girl-and the way you dress. And that night he was with you-all night. I want to know-what happened-”
“I hate to hurt you, mother dear,” Kathy told me with a flip, smarty attitude, gesturing provocatively and thrusting out her breasts. “But I suppose it's for the best since all this seems to be bugging you so. Bob's been screwing me the whole time! And he's very good at it. One hell of a lot better than Chillie, and so much cooler than those silly kids back home. Goodbye, Mother-”
I couldn't believe that I had heard correctly. I stood there in a trance watching her run out to the plane, her lovely legs attracting so much attention in the little short skirt she was wearing. Somehow, I managed to find my way to the bar and order a large double of scotch.
Chapter Four
I don't know how I got home that afternoon. It was a good thing Bob had the car that day because I would certainly have killed myself if I was driving, and probably others too. That was the first time in my life I had ever felt like I might commit suicide.
I remember that, as I was sipping my scotch in the bar, the idea occurred of walking over to the airport drugstore and getting a bottle of iodine to pour in my drink. And on the taxi ride back home when we were doing 60 on the freeway and the traffic was still passing us in the left lane, I thought of opening the door and forcing myself out.
When I arrived home, I poured myself a whole glass of scotch and literally fled from the kitchen and the sight of the knife rack on the wall. There was a. 32 pistol in the bedroom upstairs, and there was also Bob's spare. 45 too. So, I sat curled up in a chair in the den, afraid to move.
I have no way of knowing how long I sat there like that. Kathy's plane had departed at three, and it was long, long after dark when I heard my car enter the driveway and then Bob coming through the front door and into the den.
“I knew you'd be upset about Kathy's leaving,” he remarked with his usual air of complete self confidence and superiority. “But I see no reason for you to collapse into a blue funk like this.”
He calmly mixed himself a drink and then sat down on the bed-sofa across from me, his eyes searching me out, feeling me out. I wanted to scream and I wanted to cry. I wanted to go crazy and throw a fit. This was the man who had carried me to the heights of lovemaking I had never dreamed of, who had made me his virtual slave, tormented me with his teasing, and made me lead a life that kept me at home and away from other men and women for the first time in years.